"Dido and I are always listening for the same foot," she said. "If Luke
L'Estrange were to come back now, perhaps we should both die of joy.
What was it you were asking me, Bawn? Who was it gave Luke the dog. It
was Irene Cardew, poor girl. All the tragedy is over and done. I don't
mind telling you, Bawn--Irene is beyond being hurt by it--that she was
fond of Luke. Perhaps it was my fault. Luke had hurt me and I was angry,
saying to myself that I did well to be angry. We never do well to be
angry, little Bawn, with those we love. I thought there was plenty of
time for Luke to come back and be forgiven. But there is never plenty of
time in this world. I am sure of one thing, that he loved only me."

"And that is a great thing to be sure of," I said.

A servant brought out the tea-table and set it before us. We were silent
while he went to and fro bringing us the tea equipage, the bread and
butter and sandwiches and hot tea-cakes. When we were again alone my
godmother poured out the tea, smiling at me across the cups.

"We must not talk any more of the old, unhappy, far-off things," she
said. "You have heard enough, little Bawn; only take warning by the sins
and follies of your elders. Do not quarrel with Theobald, thinking
there is time to make up."

"For the matter of that," I said, "I never feel inclined to quarrel with
Theobald. And, dear godmother, I am sure you were not hard with Uncle
Luke."

"Thank you, Bawn. He was foolish like other young men of his class. I
had better tell you, lest you should wrong Luke in your thoughts. He